


Still Waters

by Razzaroo



Category: Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6257089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razzaroo/pseuds/Razzaroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of stepping into Andrew Blackthorn's shoes means sitting vigils at the side of a sick child. Julian hates that part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Waters

Julian wrung out the cloth and mopped the sweat off of his brother’s brow, his lip bloodied and raw between his teeth. Pneumonia, they’d been told. It wasn’t the first case the family had dealt with; Julian himself had thrashed and suffered through it when he was eight, making it out by the skin of his teeth.

_(Ty had always hated that expression and there was no way to make it amusing; all of Julian’s attempts had become something horrifying instead.)_

_“_ Come on, Ty,” he murmured, “Put that stubbornness to good use. Don’t let yourself be beaten by this.”

In response, Tiberius heaved with coughs. Alarmed, Julian discarded the cloth in exchange for a handful of tissues, holding them just over Ty’s mouth. They were horrible wet coughs that produced something streaked with blood; Julian hurriedly threw the tissues into the bin.

“Papa,” Tiberius rasped, turning his head away, “Mommy.”

Julian’s throat tightened and he pressed the cloth to Ty’s forehead, to his cheeks, trying in vain to cool his fever. Tiberius’s breath rattled in his chest.

“What did the Silent Brothers say?”

Julian swallowed. He still wasn’t used to his uncle yet, “Nothing good.”

He twisted in his chair to see Arthur in the doorway, Tavvy balanced on his hip. The toddler looked as though he’d been crying.

“Did he disturb you?” Julian asked, standing, “He usually has dinner now.”

He took a step forward, reaching to take Tavvy from Arthur, but a hand twisted in the hem of his shirt.  He turned to see Tiberius grasping his shirt, eyes bright with fever, face flushed and sleek with sweat.

“Please,” he croaked, “Stay. Just stay.”

Julian felt something fracture in his chest. Tiberius never begged him. Never.

“I can handle Octavian,” Arthur said, “I’d offer to exchange places but Tiberius clearly wants you.”

“Yeah,” Julian said, “You’ll be all right?”

“Your sisters are lingering downstairs. I’m sure one of them will tell me if I do something wrong.”

Julian ducked his head, “They said he might die.”

“It’s killed stronger Nephilim than this.”

“Julian,” Tiberius said, “Please.” 

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” Arthur’s smile was humourless, “It’s amazing, really, what the presence of an older brother can do. You know who to call if he needs anything.”

Julian watched his uncle go, Tavvy watching over Arthur’s shoulder with eyes like saucers, before he sat again. One hand curled around Tiberius’s whilst the other continued dabbing his forehead. He dropped the cloth into the bowl of water and picked up the plastic bottle next to it.

“Drink something?” he said, an edge of desperation creeping into the words, “Please. You’ll get better.”

Water dribbled down Tiberius’s chin and soaked into his pyjamas but his throat worked, swallowing it down. The trust he had in Julian to take care of him, to make sure he’d be all right after only three months made Julian’s stomach twist, especially since he had no idea what he was doing. 

( _Tiberius had to get better; Julian had said he would and Tiberius loathed being lied to.)_

Tiberius coughed again, sputtering water, and Julian only had just enough time to grab for more tissues before more mucus came up. He mopped it from Ty’s chin and bottom lip before offering more water, which Tiberius gratefully accepted.

“Stay?” Tiberius croaked again when he was done. He looked at Julian through his thick eyelashes. Purple bruises sat beneath his eyes. Julian took hold of his hand again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ty-Ty,” he said and Tiberius closed his eyes again, “I promise. I’m here.”


End file.
